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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433859">Who am I murdering?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/realjane/pseuds/realjane'>realjane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Relentless (Hogwarts Era series) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Draco avenging Hermione, F/M, Revenge, Secret Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:20:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/realjane/pseuds/realjane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The normally composed Hermione falls prey to particularly barbarous torture at the hands of Pansy Parkinson. When he finds out what happened, Draco gives no quarter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Relentless (Hogwarts Era series) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Who am I murdering?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Part 3 in my Relentless series :) I'm attempting to get back into the Dramione headspace to continue with Bodyguard after my hiatus. I hope you enjoy this Hogwarts series!</p><p>Tw: language</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He never sought her out. She always found him first. It was unspoken. She had Head Girl privileges which easily explained away her presence anywhere, while he was likely to get Detention for breathing too hard in the wrong hallway, so it was just how things worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he couldn’t find her. He waited behind the greenhouses to see if she’d turn up, but she didn’t. Wasn’t that where she usually found him on Thursdays, in the free period between Herbology and the evening meal? Draco checked his watch. Damn. Slytherins would be filing into the Great Hall, fashionably late, any moment. He pushed down a pang of what certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> disappointment (a preposterous feeling for first-years and concerned mums only), and trudged off to dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A discreet glare towards Gryffindor table also rendered him bereft. Where in Salazar’s seven hells was Hermione Granger?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t hungry, his classmates virtually ignored him as usual, so Draco begged off with a pair of rolls in his robe pocket. You know… in case he got hungry, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> because she liked those particular rolls and usually indulged in them in twos. That would be ridiculous. Besides, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>if </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had nicked them for her, which he hadn’t, he had no bloody idea where she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hospital wing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed hard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hell. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If she was there, he couldn’t very well visit her. Madam Pomfrey’s discretion began and ended with her patients’ blood type, and the whole bloody castle would know his affairs before dawn. He could just… get a cut. Bad enough that </span>
  <em>
    <span>episkey</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t good enough, and not bad enough to cause him serious injury, and then check himself in-- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco realized he was standing stock still in the doorway of the Great Hall when a gaggle of second-years skirted around his ankles (were they getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>shorter</span>
  </em>
  <span> these days?). He scoffed. No self-harm, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>no searching.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She would find him. He had to believe that. Four months had proven it; she always found him at some point in the day. He just had to figure out where he wanted to be discovered. It was like a twisted game of hide-n-seek, except he was desperate to be sought, so much so that he was considering harming himself for attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chose the quidditch pitch. It would piss her off, and he’d take great enjoyment from watching her cheeks flush as she gave him what-for. Serve her right for being a ghost all damned day. He stretched out in the Slytherin box, braced on his elbow and with one foot bent, so he lounged in a relaxed posture--and didn’t look like he had spent his entire day, even through his classes, feeling abandoned by a swotty Gryffindor. He looked up. The stars flickered in the dark Scottish skies. There were a host of constellations visible in the April vantage, and none of them helped him understand why he was… burning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s Draco,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. Who decided that collection of stars resembled a dragon, anyway? More like a… he huffed. A bloody snake. Well. That tracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stairs creaked and he looked down. It worked. He conjured her, looking angry and--he sat bolt upright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the hell have you been?” he spat, but what he meant was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what’s wrong?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like you care,” she murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That hit him like a spear between the eyes. He leaned forward on his knees. “You weren’t at supper.” Translation: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Have you eaten?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t hungry.” Her hand curled around the strap of her bag like she was poised to leave, so he fished into the pocket of his robe. He knew very well that when she wasn’t hungry, something was quite wrong with her. He held out his peace offering. She stared at his hand, cradling her most favorite rolls, but she didn’t take them. Her jaw clenched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you say when they slag me off in the dorms?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco blinked. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zabini and the rest,” she seethed. “When they call me </span>
  <em>
    <span>mudblood,</span>
  </em>
  <span> or whatever. Do you do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Or do you just sit there. Or do you join in--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What brought this on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deflecting--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sprang to his feet, but to do what, he wasn’t sure. He loomed over her, so much taller in the stands than she was on the walkway--what little light there was from the moon streamed over his shoulders, which meant that she was hidden in his shadow. He couldn’t see her expressions. He didn’t like it. He stepped down one stair and she shrank back against the railing. He held up his hands and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t talk to me. When I come into the common room, they clam up.” Draco sat again, just so the moon could glint off the glassiness in her eyes (a mistake if ever he made one because </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could see that she was crying). She looked down. “Come on, Granger. Stolen rolls taste so much better than fresh ones.” He held out the little puffy pastries again, silently pleading with her to stop being sad, or he’d have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do something about it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed heavily, and dropped her book bag like she didn’t care about the hundred-year-old copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hogwarts: A History</span>
  </em>
  <span> inside. Hermione trudged up the stairs until she reached the bench below him. She swiped the rolls from his grasp. He suppressed a triumphant smile, which threatened his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat facing him, with her feet up on the higher stair, and nibbled at her rolls. Still, she looked at her knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What. Happened.” Draco clasped his hands together and waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally met his eye, she looked ready to cry again, but she sniffed. “It’s stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m counting on that,” he scoffed. She shook her head, but he could’ve sworn the corners of her mouth turned up against their will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think you’re strong, like they can’t touch you anymore with infantile nicknames--” She bit a ravenous hunk of bread and chewed it angrily. “But every once in a while… the arrow lands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Who is to blame? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who am I murdering?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy,” she peeped. “Bitch cornered me in the library before breakfast. Tore my potions essay in half. Called me a... a cunt, and a <em>mudblood. </em>Asked me a host of questions about Cormac and Me--as if it’s anybody’s bloody business what we did, it’s bad enough that Ron and I have only just gotten back on friendly terms--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was already halfway down the stairs--probably would’ve pitched himself over the railing and </span>
  <em>
    <span>flown</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the ground if she hadn’t grabbed his hand. “Draco--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve heard enough.” Steam seemed liable to rise from his skull with the level of anger he was feeling, but her soft hand squeezed his wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do anything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re joking--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll know I told you, she’ll find other ways to get to me--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He braced himself on either side of her body and leaned in so he could feel her puff of surprise on his face. “I won’t have it. I spent the entire day furious with you for keeping me waiting, and it turns out you were hiding from Pansy Parkinson, a witch who isn’t worthy to lick your tiny shoes--She’ll rue it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s eyes went wide. “What are you going to do to her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How well did things end between you and McLaggen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared to answer that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So not… amicably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sealed his mouth over hers possessively. He hadn’t had much reason to feel territorial before, hadn’t really felt like she was… anyway, whatever that was, he felt it raging in his chest, the need to punish </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> people on behalf of this small witch, and he needed her to feel like somebody actually gave a shit. She tasted sweet, and a bit like buttered roll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He and I don’t really speak,” she murmured against his mouth. “He said a lot of hurtful things, in the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful,” Draco whispered. “What tinder you give me may burn him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She narrowed her eyes. “He cheated on me. Twice that I know of, though I’ve heard rumors of others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled in such a way that made her shy away from him, but he touched her chin. “I like it when you’re vengeful.” He nipped at her bottom lip and then pulled away. “Don’t miss breakfast,” he said firmly. Then, he strode off, leaving her to finish her second roll under the dragon constellation… and others, but none worth mentioning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look at her when he sat down at breakfast, at the far end of the Slytherin table where he could eat alone, but he felt Hermione’s eyes on him the moment he entered the Great Hall. She had probably arrived as early as possible, maybe even waited for him in the hallway, but his plan required her to be totally in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why, when the rustling of wings filled the hall for the morning mail delivery, his stomach did a little flip. The owls deposited little letters and small packages. A regal white bird dropped a small letter on Hermione’s plate. A black raven deposited a red envelope on Pansy Parkinson’s head. He allowed himself to look at Hermione over his cup as she opened the unsigned note. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes flicked to his, her mouth twisted into a surprised smile, and then she looked away, quickly stuffing the note into her pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pansy Eleanor Parkinson!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s head snapped up and she paled. Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is what will befall anyone who hurts you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He hoped she liked his handwriting. He had lingered a long time on </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His script was languorous, purposely so. It made the inscription of ill tidings that much more enjoyable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy tried to stifle the howler. But what good would that do, really, especially considering that Juno Parkinson had a particularly shrill voice when broadcast in a cavernous mess hall?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How could you stoop so low? For a Gryffindor, no less? A Parkinson would never defile themselves with the likes of a McLaggen, especially the youngest one--”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>From the Gryffindor table, Cormac McLaggen made the world’s most aghast performance of shock when his surname was mentioned, but the flush up his neck let fly more specific truths--namely, that Draco’s suspicions were correct. Not only had McLaggen cheated on Hermione, for which he deserved to be strangled to death by the Devil’s Snare, amongst other drawn-out tortures… but that Pansy had been one of the girls who stooped to his level. Lucky guess.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I swear to Merlin, Salazar Slytherin, your Grandmother Iris’s ghost, and every pureblood woman who dares screw a half-wit--if I ever find out that you have sullied yourself with someone like Cormac McLaggen again, you will never see the blue sky as long as you live!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The howler tore itself apart until a confetti of embarrassment coated Pansy’s person. The Great Hall erupted into a tizzy, which the Headmistress tried (and dubiously failed) to contain. Draco stood, sometime during the insanity--students were yelling over each other to discuss what they believed Parkinson and McLaggen had actually done--and waited until he captured </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> eye before he made his next move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s hands cupped her cheeks, like she was the one who was embarrassed, but when she felt his gaze (she always did, she was better than any radar), she looked up. One hand pressed over her heart. She was so arresting, with her hair falling around her temples, just waiting to lace with his fingers. Draco bowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t taken much--just a quick owl to Pansy’s mother about what he expected had occurred. Juno Parkinson was positively seismic with concern over her daughter’s shoe-string virtue, but this was an inevitability he couldn’t have planned. He expected Pansy to get an angry note in private, not a public hanging. It was exactly the sort of retribution he hoped to win for Hermione, and not at all something he could’ve asked for. It felt perfect. He congratulated himself on a well-wrought vengeance, for which he would not have to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In some other timeline, where it wouldn’t mortify her completely, Draco might have drawn Hermione to her feet and kissed her in front of the entire student body and attending faculty. Instead, he inclined his head once with a flick of his hair. She nodded. When he strode from the Great Hall, he didn’t have to look behind him to know she was following, and he didn’t have to tell her where to meet him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d know. She always found him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Join me on Tumblr to chat at TheSuperJane!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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